Homecoming
by medhbha
Summary: A woman returns to her past after many years, which includes a fiance that has been waiting far too long.
1. Homecoming

Disclaimer:  Anything that you don't recognize is mine.  Everything else (all the good parts) belong to J.K. Rowling, who is a much better writer than I.  

Author's Note:  This was originally intended to be a one-shot story.  Review! If you want me to continue, tell me!  If you hate it, tell me!  If you have some criticism, tell me!  I'd love to know.    

            Angelica Farraday stood in the middle of a room she had not seen in fourteen years.  It was a bedroom, and the central piece of furniture was a massive mahogany four-poster bed carved with ornate, savage wildlife scenes and standing on four clawed feet.  Next to the bed stood a matching bed table, and on that bed table stood a picture in a silver frame.  The picture was of two people, a woman in an elaborate red velvet dress, and a man in black dress robes and a black pointy hat.  The pair in the picture were at the moment engaged in a very long, passionate kiss.  Angelica coughed loudly, and the pair stopped, blushing.  Now that their faces could be seen, the woman was obviously a younger version of her.  The man was her fiancé.  

            She fingered the large black opal ring that was the sign of her engagement, an engagement that had lasted thirteen years longer than expected.  Shrugging off the pang of regret, she reminded herself that she had not left by choice, but out of necessity.  Sighing, she went to the closet and disappeared behind rows of black robes, emerging several minutes later carrying a suitcase-sized cedar chest with highly polished silver latches.  She carefully undid the lock and broke several magical wards before lifting the lid.  Running her hands around the rim of the lid, she took in the heavily spiced scent of the box and its contents.  

            Inside the box there sat a sleek, gunmetal grey mask on what seemed to be a great black satin pillow.  She lifted the mask, gently touched the cheek, and set it aside.  When she extracted the black mass, it turned out to be not a pillow but a cloak, and much heavier than true satin ought to be.  It was clasped by a brushed silver chain, and if one looked long enough, the faint outline of a black skull and snake could be seen on the left breast.  Lying on the bottom of the box was a black wand.  Angelica pulled on the cloak, oddly comforted by its familiar weight, in spite of what she was about to do.  She walked to her desk and opened the drawer.  As she looked in, she smirked, not at all surprised to find a pair of black satin gloves exactly where she had left them so long ago.  

            Pulling the gloves on, she walked back to the box, and picked up the mask.  It was completely unadorned, save several minute scratches on its inside; she guessed there were around three hundred.  The mask had eyeholes, and only a slit for the mouth, but it never felt suffocating.  In fact, feeling the cool, metallic surface of the mask filled her with power, and purpose, and pride, even after all these years.  At last, she picked up the wand.  It was custom-made, pure onyx with a core carved from the bones of her grandmother, a powerful sorceress who had died under mysterious circumstances when Angelica was eighteen.  The wand had no grip, but never slipped from her hand unintentionally; even if it was dropped, others could not pick it up.  It was powerful, far too powerful for everyday use, but then its maker had not intended for it to be used for menial tasks.  No, her Lord had created it and her for one purpose: to kill.  She was an assassin, single-handedly responsible for nearly half of all the murders during the first Dark era.  As each victim fell, she added a notch to her mask, and another black mark on her soul.  

            She stood, fully attired so for the first time in fourteen years.  Cold, green eyes stared back at her, the reflection seemingly unchanged, awakened after long years to all its old glory.  She smoothed the front of her dangerously low-cut black robes and turned to leave.  As she reached for the doorknob, the great oak door opened silently toward her.   She quickly took off her mask, and saw the man from the photo, still dressed all in black, had entered the room.  

"Severus," she looked mildly shocked.

The man looked at her, taking in the entire sight.  "You're really back." 

She nodded slightly.  Slowly, a grin spread across her face, lighting her cold features with alien delight.  Soon, she had the surprised man trapped in a fierce hug.  Severus Snape was awkwardly attempting to wrap him arms around her when he heard a muffled voice somewhere near his shoulder.  "It's so good to be home, Severus."

There, now REVIEW!  Even if you thought it was vile and horribly written.  ESPECIALLY if you thought it was vile and horribly written.  :o)  

~Med~


	2. An hour previous

A/N:  Many apologies for the delay; life's been hectic (won't bore you with the details…)

Anyway, REVIEW

_The Hogwarts Dungeons: Snape's quarters.  The gloomy professor sits in a large wingback chair, staring into the fire and thinking_

Severus Snape was a bitter man.  

He was, by profession, a potions master, quite possibly the greatest in all of Britain, or even the world.  But deep down, all he really was was just a very bitter man.  

He had done great things, but would never be known for them for many reasons, not the least of which his Death Eater past.  

While he was still at Hogwarts, he had developed a truth serum a hundred times more potent than the leading serum of the day.  He named it Veritaserum, and foolishly gave the recipe to the Ministry of Magic free of charge, and did not ask to be credited, an act for which he cursed to this day.  He had hoped for a job, but instead, he was tricked out of the potion and tossed in the cold for being a Slytherin. As such, the potion was infamous, but people assumed it was created by Ministry drones.  

An acidic smiled formed on his lip, no, he was quite sure none of the imbecilic Ministry potions makers had the brains or imagination to create a potion so perfect.

The incident had sealed his decision to join Lord Voldemort.  Under the former Tom Riddle, he would have the freedom to practice potion making away from the ministry and still have access to unlimited supplies.  During that time, he had made historical breakthroughs in the art of brewing potions, but of course could only be recognized within the Death Eaters.  At least that was something; now he was cramped in the dungeons of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, employed by Albus Dumbledore, teaching brain-dead students the bare minimums of potion making.  

Yes, he was destined to be an unsung hero.

His frustrations were compounded by his precarious position as a double agent.  

He had been young, only 21, when he'd been captured by Aurors (by no fault of his own-he was framed, he always reminded himself).  He was only still alive and sane today because Dumbledore had offered to vouch for his character if Snape agreed to spy on Voldemort.  Who could blame him for accepting?  He'd seen several of his fellow Death Eaters imprisoned in Azkaban, and even more brutally murdered, along with their families and any suspicious-looking bystanders, by zealous Aurors. 

 He had been on the dealing end of that type of situation several times, and hadn't thought twice, but being on the receiving end was a different story entirely.  

And yet, though he was stuck in a job he hated, and was still paying dearly for a poor decision in his youth, the greatest factor of his acrimony was loneliness.  It was not just a general hatred of being alone, but an acute emptiness in his soul that troubled Severus Snape.  

He carefully weighed the merits of both Dumbledore and Voldemort; he had always found it difficult to like Dumbledore, though he never hated him, because he was just too trusting and he never truly understood the Slytherin mindset; their fierce independence, simultaneous self-love and self-hatred, and disdain for others bred by too many years of prejudice on the part of outsiders were alien to Dumbledore's altruistic, Gryffindoric nature.  

He had loved Voldemort once, as much as one Slytherin male could love another without getting romance or sex involved.  Voldemort had accepted him, had understood him, and had offered everything he wanted.  Snape supposed it was the understanding of the Slytherin nature more than anything that had sold him on the so-called "dark lord"; but did he really need understanding anymore, and even if he did, would Voldemort still fulfill that need?  Of course, in the Death Eaters he would find peers, people of his own kind; with Dumbledore's group, he would find only poorly concealed hatred and forced politeness.  But, was he really capable of betraying Dumbledore?  The old wizard had put so much faith in him and his character.  He had taken him in when everyone else wanted him dead, had saved his life.  How could Snape in his right mind betray such a man?  

All of a sudden, a blond head appeared in Snape's fireplace, breaking his train of thought.

"Hello, Severus," the head said pleasantly.

"I'm in no mood, Lucius.  Leave me be."  Snape scowled unpleasantly at the only man he had ever considered a friend.

"Well, then, if you're going to be that way, I just won't tell you."

"Tell me what?"

Lucius Malfoy smiled maliciously.

"Fine, come in,"  Snape ceded, and sighed wearily.

"Lovely of you to offer,"  the blond said as he stepped through the fire and brushed his expensive brocade robes off.  

"Well?"  Snape asked.

Malfoy merely smiled smugly,  and sat down.  "I recently had a visitor, someone I hadn't seen in years.  Severus, Angelica is back in England."

Snape looked stunned.  "What?"

"You heard correctly,"  Malfoy said.

"But why didn't she contact me?  Why  did she come to you first?"

"To tell the truth, I think she was a little scared, Severus.  It has been nearly 14 years.  What if you didn't love her anymore?  What if you'd changed drastically? She came to me first to make sure you were still…you."

Snape sat down slowly, and then looked up at the older man.  "Lucius Malfoy, if you are lying, I swear on my life I will have your head."

Lucius smiled and stood up.  "Well, as I rather like my head, it is a good thing that I'm telling the truth.  Now, I suspect she'll be wanting to see you."

Snape just sat motionless in the chair.

"Severus, old friend, that would require you to get up and leave."  Lucius Malfoy said with a sympathetic tone.  "Oh, and I would suggest going…properly attired.  I think you'll find that our Lord will be wanting to see us soon." 

Snape stood and watched as a black cloak disappeared into the flames of the fireplace.  

As so, Severus Snape dusted off his Death Eater robes and his mask, but his was not the black of the average, run-of-the-mill Death Eaters, nor was it metallic grey of the assassins, no, his mask was the deep blood red of Voldemort's most trusted inner circle.  Only six people were privy to join that group, the heads of the six great Slytherin houses, and only three of them were still alive: Snape, Lucius Malfoy, and Angelica Faraday.  Daemien Lestrange had been killed just before Voldemort's fall, and his only heir was imprisoned in Azkaban just after; Brunhilde, the formidable matriarch of the Mulciber family outlived both Voldemort and her son, Ivan, only to die during an unfortunate Apparation accident two weeks before her 150th birthday; and both Evan Rosier and his father Soren had been killed by Aurors, along with Soren's mother, Mrs. Agatha Rosier, a completely harmless elderly lady with a poor memory even poorer eyesight, because she "might have been involved" in a Death Eater attack on several Aurors.  Snape cringed at the thought.  

True to Lucius's word, Snape's arm began to sting just as he was shrinking his mask and hiding it in his pocket.

Now fully dressed, he went to the fireplace  As he reached for the floo powder, he realized his hands were shaking.

All right, REVIEW. (See…it's caps so you see it.  That means you should REVIEW and tell me what you think!)

~Med~


End file.
